A Humanity Worth Fighting For
by Remnantofthelegacy
Summary: With the angels falling, Abbadon rising to power, Castiel losing his grace, and Dean dealing with the Mark of Cain, the Winchesters have no other choice but to do what they've always done: fight. This is an old fanfic I wrote awhile ago. It is also what I wished would have happened in season 9 at that time. #charlie b. #destiel
1. Chapter 1

The Winchesters were destined to be hunters from the start. From the moment Mary Winchester conceived them, this was their fate. They were doomed to lose everyone and everything as all hunters were. They, unlike the regular people in this crazy world, saw the truth of what goes on in the dark. They had every reason to be afraid of that darkness, but the thing is, they never were, well not really. You see these boys, these idiotic yet determined boys brought some light to the world every time they fought for its inhabitants. This is what fate decided for them, but if you ever confronted the Winchesters about this they would either attack you wondering why you knew about them or say screw fate.

Sam Winchester has always been considered the brains of the operation. He has always considered himself the black sheep of the family for wanting to be free, for wanting to get away from the madness his father forced on him. The idea of freedom pleased his mind so much that when he decided he couldn't stand the hunting lifestyle anymore, he went to Stanford. There he met the most beautiful girl in the world. Sam met the one girl he would truly love, the one who he planned on marrying. Jess is dead now, and ever since he's been avoiding women that fit her profile.

Jess's death and his father's absence caused Sam to continue hunting with his brother Dean. It led to the nights of constant research and indulging in large quantities of alcohol to cope with the pain he felt inside of him. It let to Sam feeling the need to take responsibility for his own actions and clean up his messes; in fact, he's cleaned up more messes than humanly possible. He's stopped an Apocalypse once or twice, been possessed by lucifer himself and yet he somehow still manages to get up every morning with the feeling that his work isn't done. It never will be.

Dean's the oldest of the two brothers, and he can often be seen as over protective and a bit codependent on his brother. A bit may be an understatement, but if you had pulled your sixth month brother out of a fire caused by a demon when you were just four you would be the same way. Don't look at the text like that, you know you would maybe not to the same extent ,but you know you'd be overprotective. Deans has always appeared to be the hard macho man on the outside, but in reality he's sweet and broken. He's been shattered into a million pieces, but somehow, Sammy has always brought him back. Sam has always been that one sliver of hope that keeps his older brother going.

In fact, the Winchesters are anchors for each other. They have this brotherly bond that somehow manages to keep the two of them sane in all the madness. It's as if they are two creatures who can not exist withought having each other around. They have each other's backs and that's all that currently matters to the both of them.

As their good old friend Bobby Singer used to tell them, family doesn't end with blood. Over the years, one could say that his boys had built up quite an extended family, but it was a good one. These people didn't just entwine with the Winchester tale and they shouldn't just be considered as characters adding up to the plot. Sure, every character in a good story is used as a plot device to the main characters, but they were the main characters in their stories which often ended too soon.

You had Jo, a hunter and a child at heart, something very rare to see in one person at the same time. She was a curious hunter at that, but a good one who never dealt with the bullshit the Winchesters had served her. She was smart and tough as nails, just like her mother Ellen. Ellen was always over protective of Jo because she was her only daughter. She was fierce, talented, and brave right until the very end. Then came Ash, the drop out from MIT who Ellen called a genius. That was true, he was a genius, and that same genius allowed him to shove the Winchester's original opinion of him up their asses. He was a bundle full of surprises. Rufus Turner was another friend of theirs and the coolest mother fucker you will ever meet. He could spot a lie from a mile away, and he Rufus could tell one from a mile away making you still believe it. No matter what anyone tells you, he was selfless, so selfless that he'd be willing to risk jail just so he could help out his best friend. Kevin Tran was one of the youngest to be thrown into this life. He was a student before he became a prophet, a student who had big plans for his future. Of course, he never really got the future he wanted, but he did get a family in the process. Last but not least, came Bobby Singer, the man with the plan, the man who had taken one weekend to build a panic room to ward off evil. Bobby considered the boys his own, even though he had no children. He got them out of trouble, knocked some sense into them when they were bickering, and saved a lot of people. All these people are dead without a doubt, gone too quickly, but they haven't been forgotten, they can never be.

Then came that one angel, that one dorky angel who made his way into the Winchester's hearts. He was the angel who made the mistake of retrieving Dean Winchester from hell and bringing him back to life. At the time, this was another mission, something God had commanded him and the other angels to do, but it was more than just that. It was a life changing event for Castiel. He watched over the boys because he was told to, he made sure they were safe from demons because he was ordered to, but he was never ordered to get close to them. He was never told that they would be the people he fell for for all the right reasons. He was never warned that they would change his opinion of humanity. You see, you can watch anyone struggle from far away at anytime and not question it, but the instant you are put up close to them, you can't help but question why people continue to fight. Yes, his curiosity on why humanity was so determined to live caused him pain and suffering at times, even death, but it also caused him to become more human. His faith in the boys led to who he is today, a rebel part of team free will who is determined to fight for what is right. His boys are his family, and he is part of theirs.

Being an angel isn't all full of holiness and halos. It's full of corruption, a lack of free will, and a sense of nothingness. Angels will do everything in their power to survive, but nothing to actually live. They don't know what living is actually like; all they know is order. They can't struggle, they can't experience the satisfaction of cold water sliding down one's throat on a hot summer day, they can't feel the sensation of pure happiness the moment one gets to taste something you've been wanting to eat in forever,but most importantly they can't sleep. They are incapable of having the privledge to simply close your eyes and drift off into another peaceful world. So they go by, with no sense of time, awake for an eternity, never being able to dream. What would they dream about anyway?

Cas doesn't have an absolute answer to this question as he watches over the Winchesters while they sleep in a motel. All he knows is that he craves it, he need an escape. He thinks about the drive here with strangers, hoping none of the angels or demons caught his trail. He knew coming here was stupid, he knew it was idiotic with his wings gone and the predicament, but he had to escape. He could no longer take being called leader; Castiel was just a soldier as he considered himself- a pawn in heavens hands. The moment Dean Winchester prayed for him gave him that chance to escape for a few days. He told them he had to go on a mission, and after lots of convincing and leaving Hazel in charge, he managed to go out on his own.

When Castiel was human, the most disturbing thing to him wasn't the pain, or the hunger and thirst, it was the silence. It was complete unnatural silence. He was disconnected from his brothers and sisters for the first time in a millennia. All Castiel heard was his own voice in the back of his mind, no one else trying to invade or give him orders. It was different, creepy, but it was human. But Cas didn't want to hear his own voice, he didn't want to hear him constantly putting himself down for being fooled by someone he trusted again, especially by another one of his siblings. He wanted to hear two voices and two alone, the voices of the boys he knew would be praying to him. Well, he didn't believe they would pray to him anymore, why would they. He was the one who caused the angels to fall. He was the one who beat up Dean Winchester and just left. Dean. The man who had so much faith in him probably had none now.

Retrieving Theos's grace to substitute for his own missing grace didn't make many things better. It burned out the silence, replacing it with shouts of pain, misery, hatred and confusion from the other angels. In that cacophony, he managed to hear one voice that seemed louder than the others. It was comforting that that person still prayed to him, yet painful knowing that he couldn't teleport to that voice, just like he couldn't in Purgatory. Again, Cas would have to leave Dean, his friend, without anything. He heard his pleas for help, he heard Dean's saddness, he could feel his pain. This was Castiel's fault, the fall, Sam, Kevin, Dean turning to the Mark of Cain when he had no other choice.

Cas snaps back to the present. That was then, this is now, and things will get better. He looks around the motel room. It smells of strong cologne, cinnamon, and sweat; it smells like home. This is what feels like home to the angel. It isn't that bunker the boys found, instead it's the motels, the Impala and it's cushions, the hunts. This is what life felt like with them before things got so...complicated. He looks around carefully observing the sigils he drew on he walls to protect the Winchester's from demons and angels. They are perfect in every detail, but he double checks knowing they need to be safe. His eyes slide over to the two occupied beds sitting opposite his seat on the couch. The left side is neat, with a dark green duffel bag already packed on its side. Jewelry of different kinds occupies the nightstand. One important piece of jewelry is missing though and he knows it. It's been missing for years. He can smell the scent holy water coming from that side, Dean's side. The right side is a bit of a mess with Sam's favorite plaid shirts strewn about. A dim blue light comes off from the laptop on the nightstand showing Sam's face covered in his hair. He can hear him snoring under it all. His left foot hangs off the bed making Cas smile. His boys, so mature yet childlike.

The angels blue eyes flutter open to be greeted by a man sitting on the couch. His dirty blond hair is in a mess, his green eyes are focused on Sam's laptop screen. Cas can already smell the liquor coming off from him. He looks toward Dean's right arm halfway covered in a dark blue shirt. It doesn't stop him from seeing that mark, that stupid mark. How could Dean have been so stupid? Cas unclenches his jaw, realizing something. He was asleep, he shouldn't have been able to fall asleep. His mind races back to a conversation he had with the boys. Certain bloodlines, certain graces, he remembers saying. Theo's grace wasn't meant for Jimmy Novaks body, and Castiel knew it. He and Metatron knew it was burning him out, that he would be dead soon and he couldn't do anything about it. His eyes make one more glance at Dean. Maybe I should tell them, he thought. It's not like they wouldn't care. He clears his throat, but stops himself. Now wasn't the time to say he was dying, his boys would care too much.

Dean continues to sit on the uncomfortable couch, his eyes plastered unto the laptop. Dean doesn't focus on the porn though, it's just a distraction, he's busy thinking. His hand moves up instinctively to his neck, touching air. The amulet his brother gave him is gone, long gone, and he needs it now the most. This Mark is changing him, it's making him into something he doesn't want to be. It's making him into one of those monsters. He can feel Cas watching him with those observant eyes. Castiel has the curiosity of a cat, constantly watching, constantly learning. Dean can feel the slight tilt of the head Cas always does when he is concerned, but he ignores it.

"Hello Dean," Cas says in his gravelly voice. It feels as if a weight has been lifted off him, oh how long it's been since he said those words. Dean has the urge to smile in return, but he doesn't, instead he just takes a sip out of the beer beside him.

"Heya Cas," the Winchester says a bit too coldly. He bites the inside of his cheek, upset that he can't even have a regular conversation with one of his old pals without the Mark of Cain interfering.

The conversation remains at a halt for a few more moments, the porn noises taking up the rest of the room. Where are a pair of headphones when you need them? A memory of the time Dean first scolded him for watching porn in a room full of men floats by, leaving Cas with a dorky smile plastered on his face. As his death came nearer, he began to remember the little things, the old things. Dean could see this from the corner of his eye, the curiosity burning inside him. He wanted to ask Cas why the hell he was laughing when the world was ending. He wanted to ask Cas if he was okay, anything to get his mind off of this crap.

"I came because you called. I heard your prayer." He should have said that he missed being with him and Sam. The tension between them was cut. The angel heard him? How much had he heard? Had he heard Dean bargaining in with God these past few weeks. Had he heard him cursing at Metaron? The Winchester closed his laptop and directed his attention to Castiel.

"You heard," Dean said rather embarrassed. The things he said,-

"I always hear when you pray Dean. Your voice tends to be the loudest," Castiel responds. Dean ignores what sounds like an accidental flirtation. He knew the angel wasn't over exaggerating. Cas was always speaking that way, whether he knew it or not, but that was the diction everyone got used to. Sometimes he was a bit too honest.

"How'd you get here? Did you drive? "Dean asks nearly laughing at the thought of the angel driving. He's beginning to loosen up a bit, become himself again, it's just well, Cas is always easy to talk to. He listens, he cares, he doesn't talk much or judge.

"I don't know how to drive Dean," he says making Dean's eyes light up a bit with excitement. He knows if Cas doesn't get his wings, he's going to have to teach him, just like he taught Sam when they were kids. Just, of course, not in his car.

"My angels and I have a lead on Metatron," are the next words to come out of Castiel's mouth. He nearly regrets saying it when he sees Dean's expression hardened. Cas scolds himself mentally. Dean almost gets mad, believing for a split moment that that was why the angel came, but something in Castiel's expression made him change his belief. He looked over to the sigils. Cas didn't have an army with him, he even went to a great extent to angel proof the motel, which he and Sam would have to clean up later.

"Where is he?" Dean asks, he clenches his jaw. Damn Metatron. He couldn't wait to get his hands on him and make him pay. Make him pay for Sam, for Kevin, for Cas losing his grace. He would make him pay for everything.

Castiel is hesitant to answer, knowing that explaining himself would only lead to further discomfort on Dean's part. "Currently teamed with Abbadon in Nevada," he says. Great. What was it a douchebag convention up there? Metatron would be hard to fight, but a knight of hell and an angel playing god, that was insanity.

The two were both absorbed in the conversation that they didn't notice Sam exit the bathroom, fully clothed in his usual plaid, with his hair soaked. He ran a white towel through his hair as steam followed him out of the bathroom. Sam's eyes immediately widene with surprise the instant he sees Cas. It is as if he was a 6'4 energetic puppy seeing their best friend after a long time. He openshis mouth, but was at a loss for words. He looks from Dean to Cas and then back to Dean, waiting for an explanation.

They did explain. Cas talked about his journey up here, the generous people he met, his mission. He didn't tell Sam that Dean prayed for him to come, Dean wouldn't have appreciated all that mushy stuff. Castiel didn't know that Sam was well aware of Dean's prayers. At night, when Dean thought he fell asleep, he would hear the sobbing, he would hear the tension in his brothers voice each time it caught. It nearly broke him.

"Well, it's good to see you," Sam says. He knew something was wrong, that was one of his best qualities. It was strange how Lucifer chose him as his vessel, a man so worthy of any other angel. A man who understood when Lucifer could barely understand humanity at its roots. He observed Cas, noticing something was different about him, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what.

Cas smiles back. It's good to see you both. You may be the last people I ever see. He grabs for his duffel situated beside him and gets up.

"I'm assuming you two are going to need some time before we can leave and go on whatever hunt you were planning," he says while rummaging through his dufflebag. He came prepared, "my vessel's dirty." He pulls out a pair of new clothing, identical to the ones he used to wear. It took him forever to find a pair like it, but it was familiar and it felt like home. Only one part was lacking, one important piece, but he couldn't do anything about it. He'd have to deal with this boring new trenchcoat. Cas set his clothing on the bed, petting down the creases. He should have let someone trained in ironing iron his clothing, but he didn't want to let these out of sight. Then his eyes catch a glimpse of something gold shining through the rest of his clothing. He looks at it for a moment, recognizing what it is, and smiles. He picks it up and feels it, the gold cold to his warm hands. Cas traces over it with his fingers making sure to catch every detail. Castiel runs his hand along the piece of string holding it together. Dean needs this.

Cas turns around to face the boys who were watching his every move. Both of them immediately catch sight of what he is holding. They are stunned. It's been years since they've seen it. Sam looks up at Cas, his eyes water a bit. He doesn't know what to say. Dean pauses, his hard expression soon melting. He stares at the object, so old yet so familiar. It's a piece of him he lost a while ago.

"Cas?" Dean says. That's all he says because he is at a loss for words.

"You kept that, after all these years," Sam adds. Castiel nods in return. He throws it to Dean who manages to snap out of his trance like state just in time to catch it. Dean grips it tightly as if it would disappear in an instant. He shakes his head. Cas, he thinks. Dean can feel his chest tighten with regret. He should have never thrown this away, he should have never dumped it in the garbage like it was just a piece of trash. He should have never given up on Sam all those times.

"Of course I did. I figured you two would need it," He picks up his clothing, ready to walk to the bathroom. He doesn't know what caused him to have the urge to give the amulet away, he just knows it needed to be done. Again he looks toward his boys, who haven't stopped staring at him, they look so innocent. They look like they did when he first met them, scared and confused. He shakes this off for a moment and steps into the bathroom, escaping their glances or questions before they can be asked.

The Winchester sit on the couch in silence for a few moments. Dean begins to fumble with his old amulet, debating on whether or not to put it on. A pleading look from Sam nearly melts his heart. He should, he owes Sam after everything he's done to him. Calling Sam a freak, telling Sam he was never good enough, basically abandoning him. He wouldn't do it again, not ever. Dean works the amulet over his head, managing to place it in it's rightful place. He looks at his brother who smiles.

The water from the shower turns on, telling the brothers Cas was just out of ear shot now.

"What's up with Cas?" Sam asks using a tone just below a whisper. The angel never acts like this, and why was he going down memory lane. A knot formed in Sam's gut, something was wrong very wrong.

"I don't know," Dean says as he gets up from the couch leaving Sam to grab his laptop before it falls. Dean's no idiot either, he can recognize when something is different, but he doesn't want to know. He can't know. Instead he walks out of the motel room, closing the door behind him and walks to the Impala without a sound. He's not leaving, he's just needs so air in the most comfortable place he knows.


	2. Chapter 2

The arrangement of smells the Impala has surround Dean as he lays his head against the comfortable leather of the driver's seat. His eyes are closed as listens to some familiar, relaxing rock music. This is the only place he can think, and it's the only place he can get himself together without Sam and now Cas worrying about him. He taps the steering wheel rhythmically to the beat of the music, debating whether or not he should do it. His keys are already in the ignition, all he has to do is press the gas. It's that easy, he thinks, he can just leave and no one would stop him. He could just drive off and never be seen ever again, no on would care. He opens his eyes and notices his hand fumbling along the amulet without him knowing. Sammy would care. Dean's hand reaches for the key, and he makes his choice. He pulls it out ever so carefully and shoves it into his light weight jacket pocket, the music begins to die around him. Dammit Cas, why'd you have to make things so hard, why'd you have to make leaving so...hard. He slams his hand on the steering wheel out of frustration, and gets out of the car, ready to break anything. All this anger inside him, it's not natural, it isn't good and he knows it.

The sun is high in the sky at this time, it's rays bounces off of a variety of objects including Dean's car, making it seem like the most beautiful thing in the world. It is, and no one can deny that. It's just like every other car, well not really. It has the same parts as any other car and it runs like every other car, but it does have something those machines lack. It has a purpose, it has a place, and it has an unusual history. This car has been wrecked to the point of no return, but somehow Dean has always managed to fix it, he's always managed to make it have a purpose. It isn't just another piece of metal to them, it's a symbol and it's a home. It's been the boys home ever since they were young. It's always been theirs.

Dean leans on the Impala facing away from the motel and places his hands on his face, fighting back tears. He couldn't turn to his brother, it wasn't his battle. Sam wouldn't understand, he never did, or maybe Dean just never truthfully listened. He couldn't turn to Cas either, knowing how much he put the angel through when he needed him the most. He wasn't there for him when he was human and he basically threw him on the street and for what, for someone who didn't want to be saved. All this was his fault, Castiel losing his grace because Dean turned his back on, the lack of communication between him and his brother. Maybe things would be so much simpler if he listened.

He fumbles through his jacket pocket for a few moments, his fingers touching different things but not the one thing he desperately he needs. Finally, he grabs unto it, the creases brushing against his hand. The picture is faded and a bit crumpled, but it doesn't matter to Dean, it never has. He locks his eyes on the image, so familiar yet so distant. She would know what to do.

"Heya Mom," he says observing the woman. Her blond her lies neatly along her face and her blue eyes nearly pierce through the photo. Then, he sees the smile, the same smile Sam has whenever he is truly happy. He laughs, thinking about the last time he saw his brother smile like that; it's been awhile. The photo is one of the oldest things he has besides the Impala. Sam doesn't know it exists, he doesn't know that Dean carries it every where he goes. He doesn't know that Dean will spend hours staring at the photo, trying to piece together memories of the short time they were together. For a brief moment, he feels selfish for not sharing this piece of home with his brother, but again Sam wouldn't understand. He doesn't like to look at the past.

Dean shudders as a cool breeze passes by him. The trees around him wave in the wind causing a few leaves to fall ever so gently to the ground. It feels as if he can hear her voice, feel her laugh, sounds that haven't faded to him in forever. His mother, like few things Dean cared about, would be one of the memories ingrained in his mind forever. I miss you. She was one of the best hunters he knew, and he was lucky to have her as a mother for a short time. He couldn't save her either.

If Mary Winchester were here, she would hug her boys telling them everything would be fine. Either that, or she would slap the both of them and tell them to get their game together. At this point, both would be good. She was a caring woman, always there for them, even after death. She's long gone now, in a heaven of her own with John, finally at peace. Maybe she was watching over her children, maybe she was disappointed or maybe she was proud. The boys would never know, but I'll tell you one thing, both she and John were watching, and they were proud.

He takes one more glance at the photo before placing it back in his pocket with a few other things, making sure it doesn't get bent. He'll be fine, he tries to assure himself, as long as he can remain hooked on the human things in life. For the first time in forever, he stares at the figure in the reflection of the glass window. He still has those freckles. He still has those green eyes, and now he has his amulet. But, it's not him anymore, it won't be. Your a monster...that's all you'll ever be. Dean fights back the urge to shatter the window, he won't damage his baby, ever. Dean turns away and walks to the trunk of the Impala, wishing, pleading to be okay.

Castiel rests his head against the cool tiles of the bathroom as he lets the hot water fall unto him. Showers are strange to him. As an angel with the power of heaven in his hands, all he had to do was snap his fingers and he'd be clean. There was that one time when he came back from Purgatory and he chose to take an actual shower, but that was at a time when he refused to go back to heaven out of guilt. Cas turns around placing one hand along the tiles to keep his balance as he subjects his back to the warm torture. He lets out a groan as he realizes how tense his muscles have been.

His eyes remain open the entire time. He can't close them, not again, in fear that he'd see things or faint. He won't let that happen, not here, not naked at least, with the Winchesters in the other room. It's not like he hasn't fainted before, the last time was maybe a week ago in his own office. He was lucky no angels came to disturb him as he laid there for 30 minutes; they would have asked questions. They didn't know he had stolen Theo's grace, and he would make sure they never find out. He'd lose his army's trust if he did that.

There's no point in regretting what he did to become an angel again. Like he said, he did what he had to do and he was no good as a human. He was too vulnerable as one with every demon and angel in the world out to get him. Back in heaven, before he met the Winchesters he never had to deal with this crap. Then again, he was an ass back then and prefers the humans over the angels. The humans are better. But, just because there is no point in regretting what he did, doesn't mean he doesn't. Cas killed one of his brothers to satisfy his own needs, and now he is dying as a result. Again. He keeps his focus on the ground as he watches the dirt slide off of his body and down toward the drain. When was the last time he even took a shower? How could he let himself get so dirty?

Cas steps out of the shower, almost tripping on the rug in the process. He mutters humans to himself as he reaches for a towel to cover his body with. The one he grabs manages to cover the majority of his body, but not all of it. Castiel's vessel was tiny in comparison to Sam, so he wondered how Sam even managed to fit in these things. A sudden surge pain goes throughout his body interrupting his thought process and making him yell out in pain. He leans forward, firmly gripping the sink.

"Cas!" Sam yells with concern. The sound of footsteps quickly making their way toward the locked bathroom door echoed through the silence. "Cas are you okay,"

The angel looked in the mirror for a moment, his whole face trembling, his vessel's veins show from the stress. No he wasn't. His nails go further into the counter as he endures the pain. He has to say something or Sam will grow suspicious

"I'm fine. Just cut myself while shaving," he lies hoping for once one of his boys would retain some of their ignorance toward Castiel's well-being. Sam stands outside the door, his height greater than its frame. He has the urge to barge in without knocking; it doesn't matter to him if the angel was naked or not. Well, maybe it did a bit. He shudders at the thought of seeing Cas unclothed, but he knows that wasn't the sound of pain that comes from shaving. Sam settles back down unto the couch, not as comfortable as he was before, but not as unprepared as he was before.

The angel continues to look in the mirror, his eyes tearing up from the pain. He looks at the skin of one of his shoulders, the area red and blotchy just like that time with the Leviathans. Except, this time, their aren't a thousand locked away creatures living inside his vessel and trying to take control of his body. This time it's just one angels grace, one, that doesn't belong. He lifts his arm to touch it, instantly regretting the decision. It stings, even worse than when he peeled off the skin from his hands when he partially human. It hurts just a bit less than getting stabbed with an angel sword. The pain will fade away he assures himself, picking up a piece of his outfit, it will fade and you will be fine.

Sam sets his computer down for a moment and walks toward the window to check on Dean who has been out there for an awfully long time. He's concerned and he has every right to be with everything that's going on. Dean was becoming colder and more aggressive as that Mark took over him and Sam couldn't stand it. He often had to remind himself that it was the Mark's fault, not his brother's, but slowly the lines defining Dean and the Mark were becoming blurred. He opens the blinds only to see Dean laying in the back of the Impala pretending to play the drums, leaving Sam to assume some classic rock was playing in the background. He smiles, that's his brother wearing the amulet originally meant for their father, that's how he wants to remember him. A tan piece of fabric lays in the passenger seat, making him concerned for a moment. Could that be the fabric covering the First Blade? No, it couldn't, he had told Dean to leave it in the bunker and even made a check before they left that it was still in his hiding spot. Then, he recognizes what the object is and his smile widens a bit more.

He closes the blind and walks back toward the couch to get back to work on the computer. Dean wouldn't be back in the motel room for awhile and he could here Cas still dressing in the bathroom. Now would be his only chance for privacy. He moves his fingers along the keyboard typing two words: angel grace. Of course Sam didn't expect to get much from it, but it was a chance. With angels being seen all throughout literary history, their had to be some lore about their grace. There was, but it was the usual, some crap about how it powered angels. He closed the laptop, frustrated by the lack of results. There was always something helpful in the lore, always, but not today.

The blue tie was all that is all that is left for Castiel's outfit, it is his final touch. One of the angels had taught him the proper way to tie a tie awhile ago, but he doesn't listen to the instructions in his head. Instead, he puts it on the old way, his way, backwards and uneven. Then there is the topic of his hair. It had been so glued down and boring these past few weeks, like a child going to a private school. He uses the towel to mess it up a bit, and that's when his look his complete.

He looks just like he did when he first met Dean Winchester in what seems like an eternity ago. He has that sex hair that only he can pull off. He has that suit and tie his vessel Jimmy Novak had once wore. Jimmy is gone now, he's been dead ever since Cas wound up brain dead in a hospital just before the apocalypse was averted. Poor Jimmy, he had no idea what he was getting himself into at the time.

He's about to exit the bathroom, when his vision gets blurry, and all of a sudden he loses his balance. He falls to the ground with with a large thud, one so large that Sam knows something is wrong with Cas. Again he runs to the bathroom door, this time trying the doorknob. It's locked. He bangs on the wooden door, contemplating on whether or not to get his brother. On the other side of the door, the angel lies on the ground, momentarily unconscious.

"Cas!" Sam yells. There is no response. "Cas!" His voice deepens and his words seem like a bark. There is no response. He again tries the door, but it refuses to open. He doesn't have time to search in his bag for his lockpicks. "I'm breaking the door down," he says, hoping again that Castiel will give some response. Dean is going to be pissed to find the door broken; hes going to be pissed if he finds Cas dead. Sam uses the majority of his body weight to throw himself at the door. At first, nothing happens, but after the next two times, he can feel it loosening up. All its going to take is one more push. This last time he puts his whole body into it and the door has no other choice but to break of the hinges. Sam enters the room and kneels in front of Cas. He checks for a pulse, there isn't one. He checks for signs of breathing, there isn't one. He lifts his head up off the floor, not knowing what to do. "Cas come on," he pleads while shaking him a bit. His words are tangled in his throat as he nears calling for Dean, but something stops him.

Castiel's body begins to convulse as he goes through a coughing fit. He opens his eyes carefully, confused and still in a daze. Why is Sam holding him? Sam laughs nervously and begins to shake his head.

"I thought you were...you had no pulse...you weren't breathing-" Sam begins. He doesn't know what to say, and he doesn't know what the hell is going on. Cas grabs onto his arm for support and is lifted up. Sam refuses to let Cas go as he sways back and forth. He looks toward the mess of a door. Did Sam break a door down just for him?

"Angels don't need to breathe, nor do they have a pulse," he replies. He gets a strong feeling by the way he is being stared at that he is going to have to explain himself. Where should he even start if it comes to that point. He motions toward the closed toilet, where he sits down, Sam looming over him like a skyscraper.

"They don't have to sleep either. What's up with you lately huh. Wearing your old clothes, strolling through memory lane, it's almost as if you're-" He stops himself from saying anymore. He looks at Cas who just looks up at him with those blue eyes. From this angle, he no longer appears to be a grown man, instead he seems so small. He seems like a child who has just gotten in trouble.

"You're not- Are you?" Sam aks , again not getting a response. Someone better tell him something or he's going to yell. Instead, Castiel loosens his tie and unbuttons the top two buttons of his white blouse. He pulls the collar over his shoulder, revealing just enough skin to show Sam the exact spot Theo's grace was eating away at his vessel. The Winchester had to take a double take, he recognizes this from that Purgatory incident. Not again.

Castiel seems to understand what Sam is thinking and says,"Don't worry it's not Leviathan. I learned my lesson from last time. I'm dying Sam" The words feel foreign on his tongue It is like once he said them, he confirmed his death sentence. I'm dying Sam. Those words hit Sam like bricks. here he is dying right in front of him. He's actually dying, and Sam can't believe it.

"What?" he says, his voice quiet. He kneels down to be at eye level with Cas, observing his expressions. No.


End file.
